


Come to Me (With Secrets Bared)

by rattatatosk



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Asexual Romance, Asexual!Cecil, Asexuality, Dating, M/M, Mostly Fluff, partially angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-16 23:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2289500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rattatatosk/pseuds/rattatatosk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things don’t often last, in Night Vale. Especially good things. And he has lost so many people already. It terrifies Cecil, to think that he might lose Carlos, too. Whether to one of Night Vale’s many dangers, like the tiny city under the Desert Flower, or just to the conflicts of time, interest, and emotion that all couples face.</p><p>It’s why he hasn’t told Carlos yet, though he knows it will have to come out soon. He can’t bear the thought of ruining this, this beautiful, delicate thing that is blossoming between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come to Me (With Secrets Bared)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [a prompt](http://welcome-to-ace-vale.tumblr.com/post/90675945949/cecils-been-pressured-into-sex-by-ex-boyfriends-and) from welcome-to-ace-vale: _"Cecil's been pressured into sex by ex boyfriends, and it's gone from something he was neutral on and just didn't care about to something that makes his skin crawl, but combined with just the general theme of losing people/being left in his life, it's made him worry that he couldn't possibly hold onto Carlos if he told him the truth."_
> 
>  
> 
> _"Come to me with secrets bared,  
>  I'll love you more, so don't be scared."_
> 
> _-"Come to Me" by the Goo Goo Dolls_

It's a Friday night. He's on a date, with Carlos. It's nothing particularly fancy; they had their mandatory weekly slice at Big Rico's (Carlos ordered blue pepperoni, Cecil ordered prickly pear and olives), then they shared an extra-large sundae at the White Sand, and now they're ambling along the paths of Mission Grove park, holding hands and not talking about anything in particular. The Milky Way spirals out above them, twinkling with stars and a few other, more mysterious lights. The evening air is warm but not hot, and Carlos holds his hand tightly, occasionally leaning in close to rest his head on Cecil's shoulder.

It's _perfect_. Cecil wants to bask in this moment, this quiet contentment, forever.

Carlos’ touch reassures Cecil, grounds him. He worries, sometimes. He’s wanted this for so long, hoped so desperately, that sometimes he still can’t believe this is real. That Carlos is here, touching him. Kissing him. _Loving_ him.

Things don’t often last, in Night Vale. Especially good things. And he has lost so many people already. It terrifies Cecil, to think that he might lose Carlos, too. Whether to one of Night Vale’s many dangers, like the tiny city under the Desert Flower, or just to the conflicts of time, interest, and emotion that all couples face.

It’s why he hasn’t told Carlos yet, though he knows it will have to come out soon. He can’t bear the thought of ruining this, this beautiful, delicate thing that is blossoming between them.

He knows Carlos wants to ask him back to his place at the end of the night. Carlos has been hinting at it all evening, maybe more obviously than he'd intended. And they've spent time at each other's places before, watching a movie or just huddling in terror as they avoided the latest Night Vale disaster. They’ve gone on plenty of coffee dates, lunch breaks, evening meals and shared walks in the park. But they have yet to stay together overnight.

Carlos, still tender and healing after the incident at the bowling alley, had asked to take it slow early on, and Cecil had readily agreed. But two months is turning into three, and worry gnaws more fiercely at Cecil every day that goes by. Surely Carlos won’t want to wait forever. Surely he must be wondering why they haven't done anything more than makeout and cuddle. Surely he must be wondering what's wrong with Cecil.

Cecil’s other boyfriends had, usually before they got fed up and left.

His heart constricts at the thought. He can't lose Carlos. He _can't._

So he steels himself as the evening winds down, as they walk towards Carlos' apartment building next to the lab, as Carlos shyly asks if he wants to come inside. Cecil smiles and agrees, because of course he does. It’s just the expectation of what will happen _after_ they go in that he’s not looking forward to.

The apartment is furnished sparsely but comfortably; simple, utilitarian furniture accented by an impressive array of sci-fi and fantasy movie posters. There is science equipment here too, of course: empty beakers and bottles stashed on shelves, stacked next to piles of notebooks full of notes written in definitely-not-pen, with the occasional toy dinosaur or action figure tucked in between them. The air smells faintly of spices, and Cecil recalls the homemade chili that Carlos had brought him for lunch the day before. He smiles, and takes a moment to savor the feel of this place, so different from his own apartment but still so warm and welcoming.

Carlos leads him to the couch and brings him a beer, and for a little while they just talk, continuing the conversations of the evening. Carlos talks about some of the bantering and rivalries between the other scientists on his team, and Cecil tells stories about Khoshekh's kittens and their attempts to wrestle each other despite their fixed, floating points in the air.

Then Carlos sets his own half-empty bottle aside, and leans in, fingers brushing Cecil’s cheek as he kisses him, slowly, deeply. Cecil returns it, hands running down Carlos’ sides, as Carlos’ own hands come up to push their glasses out of the way.

The kisses continue, their lips and tongues probing, carefully mapping each other, and at first it’s wonderful. Cecil runs his hands up Carlos' shoulders, along the back of his neck, and buries his fingers in the thick curls that tangle there. Carlos moans in approval. Cecil smiles and kisses him more deeply. He enjoys it, this closeness, the soft murmured sounds and shared breaths as they press closer, tangling together.

But then Carlos’ hands are moving, slipping under Cecil's shirt, tracing over faint scars and swirling tattoos, then sliding down his back to his hips. And while the feel of Carlos' callused fingers tracing his spine is amazing, it evokes memories that make Cecil tense, his kisses suddenly reluctant. Memories of past boyfriends, who didn't understand why Cecil would want to stop, who called him a tease, who stormed away in disgust when he tried to explain.

These memories shatter the comfort he feels here, now, with Carlos. A tight ball of panic curls in his chest, and he breathes faster, trying to contain it. He can’t do this. But how will Carlos react? Will he be like the others?

Everything was perfect, and now he’s going to ruin it, stupid, _stupid_ Cecil.

Carlos, always observant, notices. He frowns, pulling back. Cecil looks up at him, and realizes Carlos is talking, saying words that are hard to hear over the pounding rush of blood thudding in his ears. He blinks, forcing himself to focus.

"Hey," Carlos is saying. "Hey, Cecil. Are you okay?" His fingers brush softly along Cecil's cheek, and Cecil gazes into dark eyes full of concern. "Cecil, what’s wrong? You’re tense… and you don’t look good.”  
  
"No," Cecil says, swallowing down the panic. He can do this. He _can_. "No, I-I'm fine. Really."

Carlos frowns again, and leans back further. "You don't look fine. Cecil, if you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to do this now. We can wait.”

Cecil stares at him, torn. He wants so badly not to disappoint Carlos, not to risk him leaving then and there. It would be so much easier to let things go, to put this conversation off until another day. He wants so badly to say _Yes, you’re right. Another time_.

But he can’t. It’s not fair to Carlos, to keep leading him on and pretending to offer something Cecil can’t give. Even if Carlos leaves, Cecil can’t bear to keep lying to him.

So he sighs, and shakes his head. “Thoughtful, caring Carlos, you’re right. I’m not fine. I-- I have to tell you something.” He pushes himself up into a sitting position, and Carlos scoots back, giving him room. Cecil pauses, taking a deep breath to steady himself and trying to summon some vestige of his radio calm. Then, before nerves can trap the words in his throat, he says quickly, “I didn’t know how to bring it up, and it’s something guys have left me over before, and I- I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but I- you need to know.”

Carlos is clearly worried now, but he moves closer and wraps an arm gently around Cecil. “What is it? Cecil, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. It’s okay.”

“It’s- I-- I don’t like sex,” he mumbles, shoulders hunched and head turned away. “It used to be I didn’t mind so much, but I—there were some bad experiences with some of my exes, and now it makes my skin crawl.” Saying it out loud somehow makes the whole situation even worse, and he buries his face in his hands, embarrassed and terrified all at once. “I didn’t want to disappoint you,” he says softly, “and I thought-- I thought it might be different with you, but it just- it isn't. I love you so much, I really do, but that—I can’t do it. And I don't know if that will ever change.”

He wants to look at Carlos, but he can’t make himself move. He can’t bear the thought of what reaction he might find in those soft brown eyes.

“So- so now you know,” he whispers, as the silence stretches out. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Cecil,” Carlos says, and the arm around his shoulders tightens as he pulls Cecil into a hug. Cecil feels a kiss pressed into his temple, and then Carlos curls around him, pressing their foreheads together. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. _I’m_ sorry, if I made you feel like this was something you had to do.” He kisses Cecil’s temple again, and then carefully pulls Cecil’s hands down to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever feel like you have to do something you don’t want to keep me, okay?” He smiles. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”

Cecil blinks, staring. He can’t quite make himself believe this is happening. “Really?” he whispers. “You’re not—upset, or angry,or- or disappointed?”

Carlos smiles again, although this one is tinged with sadness. “No, Cecil. I- Scientifically speaking… human sexuality is _really_ complicated. Not everyone likes the same things, and that’s okay. I’m- I’m happy to spend time with you, and talk with you, and figure out what you like. We can- we can experiment, if you want, to find what you’re comfortable with. But I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, or pressured, when we’re together.”

“But- I mean- you’re sure you don’t mind? That I can’t—I can’t take care of you that way?”

Carlos smiles shyly. “It’s okay, Cecil. A scientist is self-reliant, right? And you-” he pauses and takes a deep breath, betraying his own nervousness for the first time that evening. “You give me so much already. Cecil, you _listen_ to me, like no one has before. You pay attention all the time, even when I'm babbling on about things I know you don't understand, and- and you always seem so excited to see me, even when we're just eating pizza, or grocery shopping at the Ralph's. Everyday things. I--I've never known anyone like you. And all of that is so important— _you’re_ important to me.” He reaches over carefully and laces their fingers together, then looks directly at Cecil. “You make me happy. And I want _you_ to be happy. If that means we don't have sex, then we don't.”

Cecil stares at him, so relieved he thinks he might cry. “Oh, _Carlos_ ,” he says, curling into the arms around him. “You’re amazing. I don't know what I did to deserve you. Thank you. For- for understanding.”

Carlos smiles and holds him tight. “Thank _you_ ,” he says. “For trusting me.”

They sit like that for awhile, simply enjoying the warmth of each others' arms. Eventually Carlos exchanges the beer bottles for mugs of cocoa and cuddles up to Cecil on the couch, and gradually, in bits and pieces, Cecil tells him everything. How, when he first started dating, he really hadn’t minded having sex. It had never been something that he was really interested in or _needed_ , but he didn't mind compromising when it seemed to matter so much to the people he loved.

But then the requests never seemed to stop, and every time he said no, or made excuses, his exes had been disappointed, and then resentful, and slowly an invisible _pressure_ built up around them. Cecil had usually ended up giving in eventually, just to avoid that horrible feeling. Over time, though, that only made things worse, and even the thought of sex made him flinch and shudder. That, in turn, made him even more of a disappointment to his exes. In the end, they always left, making it clear they blamed Cecil's “hangups” for the breakup.

Carlos murmurs soft, comforting words and reassurances as Cecil talks. He tells Cecil that none of it was his fault, that there's nothing wrong with him, and that he doesn't ever have to be sorry for being honest about his feelings. Carlos' perfect, caramel voice soothes Cecil, and he slowly relaxes, finally letting go of all the worry he's carried for weeks. Carlos smiles and holds him tighter, running his fingers slowly through Cecil's hair.

“Can I tell you something, Cecil?” Carlos asks, after a moment.

“Beautiful, caring Carlos, of course you can.” Cecil says, smiling up at him.

“I was nervous about tonight, too.”

“Really? But why?”

“ I was worried what you would think of me. I’m- I’m not very good at relationships. I talk too much about science, and the people I’ve dated – they got impatient with me, or laughed at me, or got bored. I worried—maybe now that we’re spending more time together, you’d get tired of me too. You always-- you keep talking about how amazing and perfect I am, and I'm- I never feel like I deserve it. I was afraid that you-- that you wouldn't like me, once you learned what I'm really like.”

“Oh,” Cecil says softly. “Oh, Carlos, no.” He takes Carlos' hand and twines their fingers together, then presses a soft kiss to the back of his palm. “I love you. And I love that you're so passionate about science, even if you do sometimes get distracted.”

“Thanks. I know- I know I don't always pay enough attention to you, and I'm trying to be better. It's hard for me. I don't always pick up on things, but I hate seeing you hurt. I-I worried, you know, the last few weeks. You always seemed a little anxious on our dates, and I was afraid maybe I was doing something wrong.”

“You weren't. You were wonderful. I was scared, that's all. I was so sure you would leave me.”

“I won't. I mean, I can't promise nothing bad will ever happen. This is Night Vale, after all. But I'll never leave you if I can help it.”

Cecil squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”

Too comfortable to move from the couch, Carlos pulls up Netflix and puts on _The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra._ Cecil has never seen it, and Carlos enjoys seeing his reactions to the jokes, even if Cecil takes a few of them too seriously. They both snicker at the ridiculously cheap effects, and Carlos even gets a few surprises at the Night Vale additions to the film.

As the credits roll, Carlos murmurs, “It’s getting late. Cecil- if you want, you can still stay over tonight? Just to sleep. I-um, I have a spare toothbrush ready for you. It's, um, it's not very scientific to predict the result before you start the experiment, but I was hoping- I hoped that you would want to stay over. So I bought one. Just in case you did.”

Cecil smiles. “Sweet, thoughtful Carlos. I’d like that. I'd like that very much.”

 


End file.
